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Riding Again as an Older Adult

I was a horse crazy kid and would spend any time I could at the local stable, which was about 10 blocks from home, cleaning stalls for an hour to get a 15 minute ride on Molly. She was a mixed draft horse, and being a tall lanky kid, I didn't mind her size and height. Molly and I bonded as only little girls and horses do, and I never forgot those special feelings of being one with her.

As an older teen I worked with horses at a children's summer camp for three years. I did just about everything including cleaning stalls, feeding, grooming, saddling, putting kids aboard, and comforting the little ones that were just a bit frightened. I was exposed to many different horses with varying levels of training, and had an opportunity to ride them all. Golden never walked when he could prance, Patches could do tricks, Red laid his ears back at everyone, Tar Baby had to be at the front of the group, Twilight could run like the wind, and Salty was best pals with our big orange cat. I loved them all.

I rode just about anything I could, and learned a lot, until in my mid-20's I moved on to real adulthood. Married life in the city, motherhood, and then a career as an insurance executive consumed my time, but always with fond memories of my riding days.

Two children, one divorce and 40 years later I moved to the country, and for the first time had space for a horse of my own. Living in North Texas I was surrounded by many high quality animals and with great excitement I selected Poncho, a 15.2 hand 17 year old Quarter Horse gelding that was dead broke and very dependable. I bought him without riding him, but just watching his owner show him off in the paddock. Our first few days at home were getting to know each other and he was very easy to handle and I was pleased I was totally comfortable around a horse again.

Really looking forward to my first ride, I bought a new saddle and blanket, cleaned my old bridle, and the following day took Poncho to the round pen, and tacked up. He stood like a rock. The first thing I noticed was how high the stirrup seemed to be. Getting my foot up was a real struggle and certainly not like anything I remembered. After several tries and a lot of frustration resulting in an aching right hip and cranky left knee, I decided a mounting block was in order. One must bow to age on occasion.

A few days later with the mounting block in the middle of the round pen, I discovered Poncho didn't know how to position himself so I

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